


Chandelier Love

by necklace



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, denny's as in the hell restaurant, they're not gonna spot some cryptids but hunk is still freaked out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 00:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12544672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necklace/pseuds/necklace
Summary: Hunk - now he isn't that kind of superstitious person. He isn't. But there's something about Denny's that makes him feel weird, down to his bones, like an itch under a cast he can't scratch or like he's entering a liminal plane of existence that only opens between the hours of 12AM and 4AM.He just labels himself a cautious teenager with a lot of reasons to come home every night to his moms.OR: Hunk and Lance go out on a date, pre-Garrison.





	Chandelier Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back from the dead temporarily to give you some good Hance content, AKA Clare and SJ are instigators and I am a willing vessel for chaos and soft pre-canon blushy boys.
> 
> This is also _so bad_.

Hunk gets the text at 11:38PM. He's already in pyjama's, his radio is set to smooth jazz on the lowest volume, and the candle he'd just blown out is still smoking a little from the wick, curling lazily up to the ceiling.  
  
He takes a mental (and possibly also physical) deep breath before he unlocks his phone and opens iMessage. There's only one person who would try and text him so close to midnight.  
  
'wanna go to denny's?'  
  
Hunk takes a half second to mourn the rest of his night alone before he texts Lance back.  
  
'Hell yeah'  
  


* * *

  
Lance, only recently turned 17 and freshly showered and in jeans and, Hunk assumes, a sweater that is _definitely_ not Lance's, pulls onto the street outside and switches his headlights off as to not alert Hunk's moms. Hunk has been waiting for him for the past twenty minutes or so, and has had sufficient time to dress himself for a night out at Denny's, of all places. _Denny's._  
  
It's fine. He'll be fine. Lance got his licence on the first try when he went to take it earlier today, and hasn't exactly been quiet about it, so Hunk has to survive the celebratory trip to a 24 hour possibly cryptid-infested diner at midnight. Maybe. He hopes.  
  
He sneaks out easily enough. The clever twist of Lance's lips is the first thing Hunk notices when he slides into the old minivan.  
  
"Is that my sweater?" He asks, but only upon noticing the baggy hang of Lance's sweatshirt. Hunk knows that's his, but really, he can't help but smile.  
  
Lance fumbles for a second before his smile turns a little shy around the edges.  
  
"I - yeah, it is," he says. Hunk might be seeing things, but Lance's dark skin is flushed around his cheeks and ears. "But only because you left it at my house that one time!"  
  
Hunk won't stop him, not really. He couldn't even if he tried.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I see right through you, pretty boy. Let's go to Denny's."

* * *

  
Hunk - now he isn't _that_ kind of superstitious person. He isn't. But there's something about Denny's that makes him feel weird, down to his bones, like an itch under a cast he can't scratch or like he's entering a liminal plane of existence that only opens between the hours of 12AM and 4AM.  
  
He just labels himself a cautious teenager with a lot of reasons to come home every night to his moms.  
  
Lance, on the other hand, grabs him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt and hauls him inside despite Hunk trying to think of excuses on the fly on why they definitely should not fuck with whatever eldritch being lives in there.  
  
"It'll be fine!" Lance laughs, fond. Hunk just has to suck it up, really. He's gone anyway, and if Lance were to fly to the other end of the universe, Hunk would bet everything in his power that he'd be right there with him.  
  
"I really don't think it will be," Hunk hisses back at him, despite the smile he's trying very hard to hold back.  
  
Lance throws him a look over his shoulder as they head inside, and it stops whatever Hunk was going to say after he complained a sufficient amount.  
  
The waitress seats them at a booth in the far corner without really acknowledging them. So far, there's only a bunch of college kids giggling to themselves at a table on the other end and a tired nurse sitting at the bar seats, so Hunk lets himself relax a fraction and turns to Lance when they get themselves situated.  
  
"So why Denny's?" Hunk asks. He picks up the menu, flipping through the poorly laminated pages and hoping to every God out there that the coffee they made is fresh. He'll need some to get through this night.  
  
"Why not? We might find some aliens while we're here."  
  
"Don't _say that_!"  
  
"C' _mon_ , Hunk! It'll be fun!"  
  
Hunk is going to maybe have a heart attack.  
  
"I don't know what you're into, but I don't think aliens are my type. I like my dating pool to be strictly _human_."  
  
"Try being more adventurous," Lance says. Hunk notices, with a start, that Lance hasn't even looked at the menu yet. He uses a very strict observational deduction that he probably spent his last paycheck on a combination of gas, the fee from the driving test, and Monster Energy.  
  
"Adventurous? Alright." He sits up, sitting his own menu on the flat surface of the tabletop, and leans heavy on his elbows. "I'll pay for your food tonight. We'll make it a little bit of a date, you know? You drove me here, so I'll pay."  
  
"I - Oh. Are you sure?" Lance asks. That _look_ is on his face, the one that Hunk can recognize blind and deaf and possibly also comatose. The deadly cocktail of shock and admiration and love, the look that slips onto his face because Lance is so expressive. Hunk would recognize him in death, and at the birth and death of a new world.  
It is way too early for this.  
  
Instead of answering with words, Hunk smiles wide enough to set the stars back in place.  
  
"Let's get some coffee, too."  
  


* * *

  
The waiter takes their order a few minutes later.  
  
Hunk gets a ham and cheese omelet the size of his head, and Lance orders pancakes with a side of hash browns and hot chocolate. They dick around for the ten or so minutes it takes for their food to be prepared, and tuck in like heathens when it comes around, their mouths too full for conversation. That's okay, though. They don't always need conversation between them, let alone conversation when it's nearing 1 in the morning and they both order more coffee.  
  
All in all, it's a good night. Hunk tips their waitress and pays for the both of them, and at 1:12AM they leave for Lance's hand-me-down car. Hunk remembers that the passenger side door wiggles and makes sure to close it extra hard behind him.  
  
Lance doesn't turn the car on yet, despite the late-night chill.  
  
"You said earlier - before we ate. That we'd make it a little bit of a date?" He says it like a question and Hunk is really glad Lance can't see him blush with the way he's looking down at his steering wheel.  
  
"I - yeah. Date. Um," he coughs. "It doesn't have to be, you know. I was just dicking around."  
  
"No you weren't."  
  
(Hunk sorta hates how quickly Lance will call him out for half-truths and flat out lies. Right now he sorta loves it, too, if only so he knows this sorta pining, sorta love isn't just going nowhere.)  
  
"No, I wasn't."  
  
Lance nods, and Hunk looks up from his hands to see his best friend already looking over at him through eyes that Hunk has known for years, the ones he says are too smart for their own good.  
  
"We can talk about it tomorrow, if you want," Lance offers. Hunk isn't all that worried - he knows with something like this Lance won't be able to hold it in for long before he has to spill his feelings.  
  
"Probably a good idea. Wanna stay over mine and play Papo&Yo on the PS4?"  
  
"Yeah," he smiles. "That'd be awesome."  
  
If Hunk knows they're both blushing down to the marrow in their bones, no one else needs to know except this hell restaurant and Lance's abuela's car. They'll talk about it tomorrow (or tonight, at 3AM) over hot chocolate and the leftover meatloaf his moms made two nights ago.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me at [castrumwritings](http://castrumwritings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated, despite this being actual shit.


End file.
